


Dragon Heart

by CelestialStars



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, Cinderella (Fairy Tale), Cinderella - All Media Types, La Belle et la Bête | Beauty and the Beast, Original Work
Genre: Curses, Dark, Dragons, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Mental Abuse, Mild Stockholm Syndrome, Minor Character Death, Multi, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Sassy (Great Great Great Great etc.) Grandmothers, Self-Hatred, Shapeshifting, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:17:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2557715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialStars/pseuds/CelestialStars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Innocent blood shall be spilt; our leading lady, suffering a cruel existence, shall be met and matched with the worst creature imaginable, a Beast dwelling in the skin of a Man. Their lives, woven together by a witch's hand, shall never be the same. Yet, answer me this riddle if you can, my most beloved readers. Can a broken woman truly love a kindly monster?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To My Most Honored Readers

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Nanowrimo project. I hope you guys like it. Be aware that this story does deal with physical, verbal, and emotional abuse. Please take care of yourself and do not read this if you are easily triggered. You matter more than any silly story and I want you to feel good about yourself. For everyone else, I hope you enjoy!

Beloved readers, I am sure you have all heard of the Brothers Grimm and their wonderful book of fairy tales. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Beauty and the Beast have been in our hearts and minds since we were children. We all can remember the splendor of the shimmering glass slipper, the awe at a kiss awakening a beautiful princess, and the warmth of true love turning Beast into Man. But age, as growing up is wont to do, has stolen some of the magic from these once beloved tales. We have become tired of sickly sweet "happily ever after" and "dreams do come true" because we know that is not how the world works. Our realm is dark and shadowed where dreams and wishes often become bitter disappointments. 

Yet, dear readers, we find ourselves dutifully reading Jack and the Beanstalk, Snow White, and Peter Pan to our children. We watch television shows and movies all focused on renewing or altering the childish stories we once loved. I believe it is because we miss those days. We miss the days when a tragedy could be solved by a prince whisking you away on a white horse. We miss those days where a magic sword and a touch of pixie dust could let you fly away, ready to take on all the problems of the world. Everyone still wants to be a prince or princess, no matter their age. For maybe then we can have the power to fight the everyday demons that plague us.

Nonetheless, we cannot deny that adulthood has changed us, my good readers. To be honest, we will never again be satisfied with the fluff the cartoons and picture books foisted upon us. We have been hurt and jaded by the world to believe in the easy magic fairy tales once offered. And that is alright. Grownups need fairy tales too; it is not a bad thing for them to look different from our childhood ones. After all, have we not changed from our younger selves?

Thusly, our adult fairy tale shall be spun differently from the familiar tales we were first told. Innocent blood shall be spilt; our leading lady, suffering a cruel existence, shall be met and matched with the worst creature imaginable, a Beast dwelling in the skin of a Man. Their lives, woven together by a witch's hand, shall never be the same. Yet, answer me this riddle if you can, my most beloved readers. Can a broken woman truly love a kindly monster?


	2. A Hidden Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the private conversations, the ones in shadowy rooms and secret enclaves, that change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! It's Celeste with another segment of DragonHeart. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. While I didn't make Nanowrimo, you can be assured that I won't abandon this story!

"Are you sure you wish to do this, pet?"

"I have to, Grandmother. It's my only chance."

"My dear child, I can spirit you away from this. You don't have to suffer like this."

"But I made a promise to Father on his deathbed. I swore to him that I would keep the family together. So no matter how much it hurts, I must fulfill my promise."

"Oh, darling-"

"I can't leave my Tiger, either. The Thirteen Drakes know I can't leave him to _them_. They're already turning on him. If I can at least divert them until Tiger gets married, I'll be fine."

"Pet, they're _killing_ you. Every time I see you, you are getting thinner and paler. Look at your hand! I can almost count the bones in your fingers!"

"T-th-this g-girl does all sh-she can-"

"They even have you reverting to that _mekalish_ way of talking now! I can't watch you die like this!

"Oh pet, pet. It's alright, Grandmum's not angry. She's just worried for you. Please don't cry. Here. Feel better?"

"Th-I'm fine.”

“Come here, dearest. I’m sorry. I always get so frustrated when you do this to yourself. You are young and deserve to be free, not tied down to that wretched farce of a family you have. Ah, don’t say it, I already know of the promise. You are just as stubborn as my father you know that? Now, let’s get to the more practical side of things. What sort of dress to wear and with what sort of shoes, jewelry, etc. Thankfully, you could have passed as my twin in my heyday.”

“Grandmum, your heyday was over two centuries ago.”

“Don’t remind me, you cheeky brat. Luckily for you, styles like to repeat themselves at least once or twice every few years, and some of my ballgowns will fit you and remain just enough in current fashions to make you a stunning hit. Now how about the teal one?”

“Grandmum!”

“What? I think you look gorgeous.”

“I look like a...... like a......”

“A tempting queen-to-be?”

“A _tart_! ......Would you kindly stop laughing?!”

“Oh, but your face, pet! It was glorious, the perfect cross between utter horror and embarrassment! I haven’t laughed like that in decades! Whoo, thanks for that.”

“I utterly loathe you, Grandmum.”

“Less talk, more dresses!”

“Slave driver. I like this peach one.”

“Dear Drakes no!”

“Why not?”

“You look like someone took a curtain off a wall, clumsily sewed it into a bag, and threw it on you!”

“I like the draping...”

“You look like you have no waist or hips or lower frame, actually.”

“I-I know. That’s w-why I like it.”

“Oh, you have a lovely body, sweetheart. You naturally have the hourglass shape everyone’s been raving over for the past thirty or so years and-”

“My skin’s too dark for the roses and cream complexion of court! No one would dream of dancing with someone with these ugly scars I have. And I’m too skinny! I look like a skeleton!”

“Your skin looks positively lovely, pet. It will cause quite the stir among those pasty faced harpies. As for your scars, they make you look positively dragonish, hm. Actually, I have the perfect dress for you. Hold on. Here, try this crimson one.”

“I haven’t forgotten that you conveniently did not mention how slim I loo- Oh.”

“That’s right, darling. Oh. You look absolutely edible.”

“Grandmum!”

“Darling, I speak nothing but the truth. If I was younger and were we not related....”

“That is vaguely disturbing. And isn’t that narcissistic coming from she who said I could have passed as her twin?”

“What can I say, pet? I am and was a very attractive woman. But this is positively gorgeous on you. You must wear this. I won’t hear any complaints.”

“But the shoulder is a bit-”

“No complaints!”

“Fine.....I really _do_ like this dress.”

“As you should! Dress is done, now we need accessories. Thankfully, I have the perfect gems for you to wear. Here. You should be grateful your ears haven’t been blocked up.”

“Oh, Grandmum, these are beautiful! Are they real?”

“What do you take me for, a cheap _de-simeth_? Of course they are real! Put those in for Grandmum, dear. This is the matching necklace and hair pieces. Just give me a moment to-There. Now you look beautiful, my pet. Absolutely beautiful.”

“I-I still need shoes, gloves and a costume theme.”

“No need to worry, love. I have you. Now, the fashion today is to wear these heeled pumps. But as you have never worn shoes with any sort of height, that is obviously out of the question."

"What about these boots?"

"Boots? Darling, those are hardly fashionable enough for the ballroom. Besides, I would worry if you would step on someone’s feet by accident or on purpose- I take it back; wear those boots.”

“Grandmum, I would never-”

“Believe me, pet. Some of these _stedier_ noblemen don’t know how to keep their damned hands to themselves. You’ll want to have a fashionable weapon, a subtle kick or ‘accidental’ elbow to the solar plexus will do you some good.”

“Grandmum!”

“Don’t Grandmum me. I don’t want to come back and find you chained to a bed, servicing some fat prick and birthing his babies. Wasn’t that unusual in my day.”

“Grandmum, you were a lot freer in your day. At least you could do what you wanted, I have to be ladylike and dainty.”

“Not with this outfit, you won’t be, Now turn around, pet. I’m going to do something. Close your eyes and only open them when I is say I am done.”

“Alright, but I swear I won't have to kick anyone....

“That tickles a bit, Grandmum!”

“I’m no bumbling wizard, love. Besides, my magic likes you. It recognizes you as kin. Alright, open your eyes.”

“Oh. I look like.... like.....,”

“A dragon?”

“A dragon. But w-won’t this cause t-trouble?”

“Of course not, pet. It’s been a while since _that_ happened. Dragons are back in season, though if there are any, they won’t be as fantastic as you.”

“Alright, I-I think I’m- I’m ready.”

“Except for one thing.”

“Grandmum?”

“Take these. They are of my sire’s hide. They are warm and they will remind you of me a little when you are on your way.”

“Oh, Grandmum, I can’t. These are too precious for me to take.”

“Nonsense, pet! If you are so determined to only have this one night, then you should have it wearing these. Now put them on. You will be the most beautiful girl there and I will do everything in my power to ensure that.”

“They fit unusually well.”

“I told you; magic can sense kin. You’ll never have to worry about anyone stealing these. They will fit you and fit you only.”

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, child. This will be a tour de force, pet. You will make a statement they will never forget!”

“Grandmum, it’s not just because of the dress and stuff. Y-you are the only person w-who’s been w-with me in e-everything and-and I don’t know how to thank you for this and-”

“Don’t start crying now, my love. You deserve to be happy at least once in your life. Besides, you’re the only kin that’s alive right now. I have no one else to spoil, so it looks like you get all of my affection. Never doubt that I love you, sweetling. Now stop blubbering and scoot! We have a ball to get you to.”

“Thank you so much, Grandmum. I’ll take Galaxy with me. Goodbye!"

"Ba-inoka yi ba-kenuiera, my dear. I swear to you the Thirteen Drakes will be watching."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for Lyndas:
> 
> Language Tip-Words have suffixes to signify grammatical modifications. -Sh is masculine or male directed, -Th is feminine, -Ch is neutral or non-binary. -A means plural. -ier means 'ing'.
> 
> Mekal~ier- severe expletive, synonomous with 'fucking'
> 
> De-sime~th- corrupt business woman, sharp oath, literally 'bad business woman'
> 
> Stedi~sh- lesser, but still sharp expletive angled towards men, synonomous with 'bastard', literally 'cruel man'
> 
> Ba-inok~a- Formal goodbye, literally 'good flights'
> 
> Yi- 'And'
> 
> Ba-kenu~ier~a- Idiomatically 'good luck', literally 'good huntings'.
> 
> ~~~~~~
> 
> Like it? Hate it? Tips to make it better? Well, let me know (constructively) in the comment section below! The next chapter shall be where we get into the meat of the plot and I hope you stay tuned. Have a great holiday season, for fellow Christmasers-Merry Christmas, and an amazing New Year!


	3. A Peek into Two-or is it Three?- Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A desperate maiden rides to her first and last taste of opulent freedom, a frustrated lonely man struggles with his base urges, but a sadistic dragon may be the thing to bring these two together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me and it fought me hard. I apologize for the time it has to get this chapter up. I hope that you have stuck around to read my newest offering.
> 
> Quick Note: I recently got a complaint from a reader that my second chapter was confusing and seemed static. This is a normal feeling as I want you, the reader, to be guessing at the world I am building until a time that I am to reveal everything. Sadistic? Yes, but I really want to have you dive into this world without any preparation. The story in itself is fairly familiar, thus I want the major things such as names, setting, and characters to be different and slowly revealed to steer my audience in a different direction than they expect. Is that good?
> 
> ***TRIGGER WARNING*** Self-derogatory thoughts, panic attack. Protect yourself and do not read if triggery
> 
> With business out of the way, on with the story!

The night was cool, reflecting the oncoming harvest months. High in the sky, the moon gleamed palely, naturally outshining the glittering palace despite its brighter countenance. The city glowed dully below its betters and appeared quite sedate compared to the bustle of the grand estate. Music floated delicately on the gentle breeze, wafting over the land. It was to be a glorious night for a ball. The stars shimmered above without a touch of dark cotton clouds to mar their delicate light. Late summer night-flowers bloomed with impunity as their wonderful fragrance filled the air. The night was perfectly calm, save for one lonely horse galloping on the beaten path. Its rider, figure obscured by a black cloak, clutched desperately at the reins. Viciously derogatory thoughts spun wildly in her head as doubt flooded her rapidly beating heart.

_'What are you doing? You don't belong in a place such as this!'_

_'Uppity bitch, you are not worthy to wear this dress.'_

_'Useless.'_

_'Ugly.'_

_'Only thing you are good at is being a slave.'_

_'Should have sold you off to the Western Barbarians. They'd know how to break you properly.'_

_'No account, lazy, worthless whore!'_

Yanking on the reins, the young woman forced her horse to an abrupt stop. She leapt off, racing over to the grass where she became violently ill. Her breath refused to escape her lungs as tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks. Why was she here? This was a terrible, terrible mistake. She had no right to do this. She had no right to be there. Her head began to spin because of her hyperventilation.  She should just turn her horse around, take off her ridiculous regalia and go home. At least there she would be no pretender. This was foreign, unknown to her. She knew she would be laughed out of court if she did this. The vultures and scavengers that abounded there would eat her alive. This was wrong, wrong, _wrong_ -

A gentle warmth began to spread through her chest. She breathlessly placed a hand on her breast. The amulet tucked in her bosom radiated a calming heat, slowly easing the terror. Pulses of soft magic beat in slow time, creating a rhythm to slow her breathing and then her heart. Grandmum. She smiled happily, leaning on her horse's flank. Of course, she would have planned for her inevitable cold feet. She could almost hear her swearing at her near-bailout.

_'Don't you dare waste this opportunity, especially after all the trouble I went through getting you ready for tonight. You need this, and I won't have you lose your one chance at happiness. Now get off your ass and get going!'_

Hearing the sound of trickling water, she lead her horse into the grass, carefully avoiding her sick. She would need to wipe and wash out her mouth before checking her dress for any splatter.

 

* * *

 

He sighed softly, straightening his jacket. Drakes knew he didn't want to do this, but there was simply no other choice. He tied his mask onto his face and looked at himself in the mirror. Perfect. He was formidable, intimidating. The perfect look for a noble of his stature. He hated it. This was simply not going to work. Everyone knew his story, knew what he was. It didn't matter what he did, there was no way he was to find someone in the masquerade tonight.

 

* * *

 

She slows her horse as the palace gates grow in front of her eyes. Her heart begins to pound in her ears. This was it. Oh Drakes, this was it. This was her last hurrah, her final taste of freedom before she condemns herself to her slavery. A frantic desperation filled her heart. She needed this; dear Drakes, she needed this. She wanted, wanted, something for once in her life. She wanted to feel pretty. She wanted to be a person for once, instead of the shadow on the wall, the unknown face that was viewed as an ornament or a tool to be used at anyone's will. Her breath began to even, heart beginning to pound in her ears. Her body tensed as she passed the gates. There was no time to think. It was only to do and do well.

 

* * *

 

The young valet yawned tiredly, rubbing his eyes. He was exhausted. He had been servicing the veritable flood of flashy nobles parading through the palace for nearly four hours. It was admittedly beautiful when the parade of aristocrats started in their rich colors and glinting jewels. Their tendency to treat him like a piece of furniture quickly killed any sense of awe and respect in him though. As the hours passed, the youth found himself belittled, mocked, and even slapped around for supposed subpar service.

He hated the nobility. Their arrogance and disdain for the servants they so desperately needed turned his stomach. They were no better than he, the pompous fools. The youth spat on the ground bitterly, frustration aging him beyond his sixteen springs. He just wanted to be done with tonight and go sleep in his corner of the hayloft, maybe coax a kitchen lad or lass to join him while they were off for the evening. He checked the clock tower, smiling at the time. The chief steward had allowed for the essential staff to have allotted time off while the nobles had their fun. He only had ten minutes until he was off for the rest of the evening and was he ready to take a load off.

He stiffened, hearing something in the distant that he would rather not acknowledge. The valet looked desperately at the clock. _'Please 'urry, I'll d'anythin' if ya speed up!'_

Alas, the clock tower stood impassable as the sound of hoof beats grew louder in his ears. The youth swore to himself as he straightened himself quickly. Nobles all thought themselves above everything, including time itself. Bastards, the lot of them. At least this aristocrat was so late that it was nigh unlikely that any others would follow. Peering into the night, he strained his eyes trying to find his last assignment but it was too dark to see anything. Odd.

When it came to occasions like this, most nobles rode their most eye-catching steeds, white, silver, and champagne being the three favorites. Those were easy to spot in the moonlight as they appeared ethereal and more like guardian spirits of horses. This person's horse had to be a sorrel at the brightest to remain so hidden even under the full moon's. Straining his eyes, the valet finally caught movement swiftly approaching the open gates. The steed slowed as it came into the lighted path, revealing itself and rider.

The pair were somberly colored as if attending a funeral than a masquerade. The horse was a fine piece of flesh, nonetheless, with a jet black coat and shockingly silver-blond mane and tail. White spots dotted its rump delicately, confirming its breed as a rare black silver dapple. It gleamed in the firelight as it trotted in proudly, obviously well-kept. The rider, or woman, judging from her side-saddle perch, was just as proud despite the black cloak obscuring her dress and features. But the faint glint of what could only be jewels beneath her hood warned him this was no ordinary maiden.

Snapping out of his trance, the youth straightened his spine and schooled his features into a servant's impassable visage. But he winced inwardly. As abusive as the men may be, it was always the ladies that never failed to give him the most trouble. When they were kind, they were very kind, but when they were cruel... He shivered. Their testy demeanor and whiny manners never failed to incense their male companions further. Many a forming bruise under his uniform was from a frustrated lord hoping to placate his lady.

_'Be grateful she's on 'er own,'_ he mentally chastised himself as the handsome horse slowed to a halt in front of him. He carefully made his way towards the lady, but to his surprise, she easily swung off her horse to the ground. He quickly grabbed the reins; he had to do something. As he steadied the mare, the young lady, he could see the smooth fresh skin of her lower jaw beneath the black hood, fumbled with the interior of her hood.

Quick to serve, the youth stated, "Dun worry 'bout de hairse, m'lady. 'E's'n gud 'ands. E'ry hairse gets a gud feedin' to 'em wif sugah, oats, 'n' fresh carats an' apples. Rest 'sured."

He went to move her horse, but she stopped him. "I've got no doubt that you'll take care of Galaxy, but lemme offer you this for takin' good care of her, 'specially when I'm so late."

Grabbing the youth's hand, the lady tipped the contents of a small bag into his palm before closing his fingers around them. She smiled brightly (but with such a sad look in her eyes) before climbing the steps to the palace doors.

What an unusual woman. Her accent... It was like nothing the valet had ever heard. He was flabbergasted. It was obvious that this young lady was not entirely of the gentry. But she had enough of the noble lilt to pass as a daughter of a rural lord. In the same breath, she could be a servant maid who had spent enough time with her masters to pass off as one of them. The jewels in her hair were real and the quality of the fabrics were fine, nonetheless. She could have simply stolen them from a rich home for all he knew. He clenched his fists, unsure if he should call the guards or allow her to pass, when he felt something cool and heavy in his right fist. He had completely forgotten that she had graciously tipped him. He lifted his hand to his eyes to peer at the tip in the moonlight and- A faceted little ball of rose quartz, the size of an infant's fist, attached to a steel chain winked back at him.

_'How did she-'_ But the lady had gone, disappeared behind the doors of the castle. He rubbed his thumb on the bauble. It would fetch a pretty price yet it was cheap enough so that a jeweler would not accuse him of robbery and have him arrested. _'Ain't no way dis gurl's any sorta nobility.'_

He really should report her. But the youth gripped harder onto the pendant. Girls like that don't come every day, especially in the nobility. He smiled softly. If she dressed like a lady and acted like a saint, he couldn't bear the thought that his actions would imprison her. One good turn deserved another.

 

* * *

 

Fancy gowns and jackets of all hues swirled in dizzying speeds around the dance floor. Every color danced joyously to the music produced by a gifted orchestra, from burning reds that spun a spicy tango, to floating yellows that glided on an airy waltz, to audacious blues that whirled around a folk dance. A masquerade was the place for nobles of all walks of life to meet, potentially fall in love, and create substantial alliances. There was no king, count, duke, knight and baron here. Every attendee was dubbed "Lord" or "Lady," creating an even keel for all nobles to find their matches. All, even the orchestra, were masked, casting a slightly dark shadow over the gaiety of the spectacle. In this world of beasts, spirits, fairies, and characters, a single man clad in black stood against the wall, nursing a rather excellent glass of newly invented fizzy sweet wine. He was a spectre, a frightening shade in the midst of the noble gaiety. Lord Death was his agreed moniker by the anxious lords and unnerved ladies fluttering around.

The man was terrifying. Disdain and aloofness oozed from his pores, making the alcove he slipped into seem more of a shadowy cave or dark alleyway, not the bright corner of a grand ballroom. Many an aristocrat noticeably evaded his quiet sector. Their visible nervousness made a certain presence in his heart stir; an impression of a dark chuckle emanated in his heart.

**_'What fools are these mortals! They have no imperative to breed so desperately and yet they flaunt their colors and words like first-season drakes fearing a lack of mate.'_ **

_'Ponces and coquettes, indeed. Their natural scents are quite rank, especially in conjunction with the flush of perfumes and oils smeared across their skin. It is repulsive.'_

It laughed out loud. **_"I have truly changed you for the better. No matter what they say, you are much more drakon than human."_**

He snarled irritably which prompted a round of laughter. The drakish heart within him was sadistically brutal. It hated the humans it was forced to dwell amongst, imprisoned in the body of a young noble. Yet, for some unknown reason, it had taken an interest in the tiny babe it was assigned to reside within. Many of his ancestors who had been cursed as himself to hold a dragon's heart went mad after the beast was awoken. But the creature-heart melded sinuously with the child, behaving extremely kindly towards the mind that it shared a body with. While the cruel serpent was a constant friend, he found his sanity (little as it was, being a double consciousness-ed body) dwindling away with its smug remarks.

He let out a frustrated sigh. He did not know why he was here. All of the viable suitors that he had an inkling of interest towards were either deeply frightened by his masked, yet ironically honest, persona or vapid sycophants who had neither sense nor wit about their gaudy person. He straightened his jacket tiredly. He had already been at the masquerade for an hour-

_**'And a half.'** _

_'Shut up, you.'_

\- and there was nothing keeping him here. He should just bow out and return to his rooms. Anything would be better than this -

The heralds sounded their trumpets-strange, there were no other nobles that were expected to attend, at least that's what he had thought. As one body, the court turned their heads to gaze at the opening doors.

 

* * *

 

May the Drakes preserve her, she was horrifyingly late. The _entire_ court had turned their heads to her, staring at the young interloper. Her heart turned to stone in her chest. They were all looking at her with such expressions on their faces. Jealousy, lust, curiosity, fury, intrigue, hunger, fear, confusion, mockery, all swirling in a dizzying, overwhelming maelstrom that nearly reduced her to frightened tears. She reached for her skirts nervously. One step, two steps, three steps led her to the edge of the stairs before terror gripped her heart once more. What was she doing here? They could all tell she was false, that's why they are staring at her. Even now, the heralds and guards were preparing to arrest her for impersonating an aristocrat and-

The amulet pulsed once more, radiating warm calm into her small frame. One breath, two breaths, three breaths. Her heart ceased pounding. The single moment of debilitating fear passed and left her in a daze of pure unthinking motion. Skirts raised, a single booted foot daringly took the first step onto the indigo carpeted stair. The second, after a flash's fearful hesitation, quickly moved to the stair below. Suddenly, she was making her way down the plush steps with a graceful gait that shocked her deeply. Where had this newfound stateliness come from?

Lost in the depths of her mind, she was struck suddenly by a fiery blaze that caressed her slim form. She shivered. Grandmum had warned her about lusty fellows who would try to undress her with their eyes, yet the glance that wandered her body was merely appraising her. But how she burned. Something curled in her chest, preening beneath the eyes that set her aflame. It purred in excitement as it cooed at the bold suitor daring and dragonish enough to stare at her like this.

Gathering her nerves, she raised her head and allowed her gaze to sweep the assembled court. The motley gathering seemed harmless enough. In fact, they were all extremely tame compared to the fiercely passionate gaze dancing up and down her body. She bit her lip. Was she going insane? She may have picked up one or two of Grandmum's quirkier habits, but feeling strange stares was definitely not one of them. She let out an inaudible sigh.

A shadow caught the faintest edge of her peripheral vision and her heart stopped. She slowly turned her head towards the gentleman. _Oh_ , she didn't expect _this_ to happen to her. She softly cursed under her breath. She was only to have fun at this ball! She was only to get in, dance with a few cute men, dine on the best food she was to have in her existence, and return to her miserable life knowing she at least had one good memory to hold close to her heart. She wasn't supposed to be attracted to anyone, she wasn't to get attached to anyone. But the man staring so boldly at her was nothing less than _breathtaking_.

He was tall, towering a full head over most of the assembled gentry, and comfortable in his own skin. Fair features suggested good breeding, white-blond locks and flawless translucent skin betraying his noble blood. Artfully brushing his shoulders in a glossy sheet, his hair was pin straight and framed carefully around his face. His frame was straight with a powerful bearing that was clearly intimidating more than a few nobles that were within a certain radius. It didn't help that his costume was the dread Bone Drakon itself. He was clad in pure obsidian hued clothing, jacket, cravat, breeches, boots, waistcoat, gloves all without a trace of color. The only hint of levity on his body was his crisp white shirt peeking from the somber costume. But the crowning jewel of his ensemble was the mask of polished dragon skull leering at the aristocrats gathered. Etchings of old drakish runes were carved onto every available space, save the gleaming fangs, resembling ancient tapestries of temples and skull-masked priests offering sacrifices to the Bone Drakon.

She shuddered softly. Barbaric yet utterly delicious. It was a statement, challenge, and dare all in one. The macabre display had her curious and eager to meet the vicious giant. Taking her final step onto the floor, she curtseyed with a polite smile to the court and strode off towards _her_ , and how possessive was she already, **Lord Dread.**

 

* * *

 

Of all the possible people to enter through the doors, this was not what he was expecting. A delicate little dragoness strode down the stairs, lovely and sweet in her shy demeanor. She was beautiful, clad in rich crimson and ebony with the most delicious scent of warm vanilla sugar exuding naturally from her. He carefully tilted his head, feeling the lurking presence in his heart eye the sweet-smelling young lady. She had curly black hair woven into a loose braid with strands of rubies and diamonds plaited in. Her half-mask was daring, nearly gauche as the familiar face of a fire drake intimidated the tamely adorned audience. The dress was a work of art. The cut was foreign, a bold off-the-shoulder ball gown with a single sleeve that left the warm brown skin of her neck and shoulders bared. A rather low class shade, he knew, but he couldn't help his appreciation and relief from the pale skin colors of court. The red fabric was adorned with black lace, skirt parting down the middle to reveal dark ruffled underskirts. Her accessories for the most part were simple. Silver hoops dangled from her ear and curiously plain black gloves covered surprising large hands. But two things caught the attention of the court that night which had he and the nobles in utter awe. Firstly, the grand sweep of the young lady's wings. No dragon could ever be complete without her wings and by the Thirteen Drakes, were hers fantastic. They were a bloodier red than her dress with ivory claws poking from the wing thumb and digits. The detail was exquisite and he found himself counting the scales that lined each wing. Secondly, and more grandly, was the ornate necklace that adorned her dark neck. It was a rich silver collar studded with brilliant cut pigeon blood rubies, diamonds, and black onyxes. The front scrolled down to the lacy hem of her bodice. As she moved, the necklace caught the golden candlelight at new angles, wine red, jet black, and diamond frost adopting a hazy sunset gorgeous necklace was fit for a queen, suggesting traces of royal blood running through the unknown lady's veins.

He could feel his shadow purr softly inside of him. _' **Her scent is fantastic for a mortal woman. Definitely mate-worthy.'**_

_'Can you truly decipher all of that from a single scent?'_

The dragon scoffed. ** _'It's so simple. Good mates always have a pleasant scent to their eligible suitors. Compatible smells means compatible bodies.'_ **

'But does it mean compatible mind?' he mused. He looked over the beautiful woman once more. She seemed like a gorgeous, daring lady, but he knew her mind could be as addled and spoiled as many of the flighty ladies that fluttered around outrageously. He wanted to like her, truly he did. But was it worth the risk? Was it worth the frustration of an unhappy companion or heartbreak of a sordid jilting? His heart pumped faster and was promptly seized by a wave of blind terror. Oh Drakes, what was he going to do? What was he even going to say? Would he even get a chance to meet her before one of the other mindless courtiers spirited her away? Could he-

_**'While your internal struggles are entertaining, your questions will most likely be answered shortly if you get your head out of your ass and look** _ **up** _**.'** _

Awe and horror struck him as he saw the **Lady Dalos** stride confidently towards him, mere yards from his currently location. He had no time to prepare, no time to think. All he could do was look down and down- she looked taller upon the stair- to gaze upon the slender lady who had stopped at his feet to gaze in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it, hate it? As always, please offer some constructive criticism in the review below!

**Author's Note:**

> Please review and tell me what you think! This will be crossposted onto Fictionpress under the guise 'kbomb234'. It is not plagiarism. Thank you!


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